Better than nothing
by MaybeItsJustMyType
Summary: What if Sherlock didn't spend the last few weeks before his exile alone? What if Molly wasn't on that run way because she'd already spent time with him..
1. Better than nothing

Molly woke to knocking at her door, well, banging, it was 1 am in the morning, who the hell would be smashing her door down at 1am in the morning? Who indeed? She tied her dressing gown cords tight around her middle while shouting at the door, "You're damn right I changed the locks Sherlock, positive drug test, no more bolt hole! I told you!"

The banging ceased but she knew damn well that the consulting risk taker was still standing just as impatient and self righteous as ever. She snapped the light on in the kitchen and shuffled to the door shaking her head slightly in an effort to throw off the deep sleep she had just been roused from.

She pulled the key to the deadbolt from around her neck – the only place he could be counted on to never be in a position to steal from to make a copy – pushing it into the lock she paused, she thought she could hear the static of a radio for a moment, "Sherlock? Who's with you?" Her trepidation only increased when instead of an answer she heard a whispered conversation through the door.

"Okay, whoever the hell you are you're going to need to tell me the nature of your visit, okay? You're not coming in here without a damn good reason and two verifiable numbers to call to check you are who you say you are. Got it?"

The whispering continued for a moment and then her phone started ringing, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the door as she walked back out the door of the kitchen to the lounge where her phone lay on the coffee table. She scooped it up and looked at the screen, private number calling, she stood for a moment contemplating, then rolling her eyes at her own gullibility she answered.

"Molly? Good girl. You shouldn't have let them in."

"Sherlock? Wait, why?" She asked looking around the room for a suitable weapon and trying to figure out her best chance of escape.

"Without checking their credentials," he stated as though the answer was obvious, well, it probably was obvious when you were the great Sherlock Holmes.

Molly sighed, she didn't really feel like a lesson in safety was in order on a random night at 1 am. "What the hell is going on Sherlock?"

"I need you." Sherlock's voice was raw at this admission.

"Has something happened? Why do you need me? Why not _John_?" Molly felt confused by him at the best of times, but at 1 am with God knows who banging on her door and him on the phone sounding less than robotic, she was beyond comprehending the situation whatsoever.

"No, I don't think John will work for this particular need, it has to be you, no other human will in fact do. _Please_ Molly."

Molly frowned at the desperation in the please, she'd never heard that in his voice before, "Sherlock? Are you hurt?"

"Please come to me Molly. I once asked you whether you thought to have loved and lost was better than missing the pain and not having the love at all, do you remember?"

"Y-yes, I said it was, why are you bringing that up?" Molly had tears glistening in her eyes as she stood clenching her phone hoping desperately that this wasn't a goodbye call.

"Do you still feel that way?" Sherlock's voice was urgent, insistent, bald.

"Of course," the tears were trailing silently down her cheeks now, this was a goodbye call and he's trying to wrap it up in poetry in some misguided attempt to provide me with some comfort.

"Then please, get dressed and go with the agents at your door, come to me," his voice broke in the last word and Molly swallowed a sudden lump in her throat, she knew he was crying and it ripped a hole through her heart.

"Okay," she whispered, "I'll come. To you."

"Thank you, Molly," she heard a sigh of relief and the line closed.

Waking up was no longer a problem, she walked stiffly back to the door and fiddled with the locks before wrenching it open. She gestured for the two agents to come inside while she got ready.

She went into her bedroom and shut the door so she could pull on some jeans and a jumper, she thought about a brief swipe of make up but looking at her trembling hands she decided against it.

A knock at her bedroom door was the precursor to a tentative "Ms. Hooper? We've been advised that you should pack a bag of essentials, anything that can't be readily purchased or is urgent."

She drew a breath to refute this request, - she had a shift in eleven hours – then remembered she was dealing with the ever high handed Holmes boys and closed her mouth. It was a certainty that however long she would be away Barts would have already approved the time off.

The agents were clearly Mycroft's minions, so he was involved, she was aware he was the greater part of getting Sherlock unfettered access to Barts in the first place, she imagined extended time off for Sherlock's pathologist would pose no great difficulty.

Molly pulled her medium suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and – having no idea what she would need – starting haphazardly throwing things in, when the case seemed full enough she zipped around the edges and pulled the handle up trundling it to the door and out to the agents.

The taller of the two, although not by much, the two men were eerily similar in appearance. Six feet tall – the taller having a scant inch on his companion, - nondescript light brown hair in a military cut, blue eyes, slight colour from outdoor details – she guessed, - and fit, lean torsos, came forward to take her case.

Molly relinquished it gratefully, not because it was heavy, it wasn't, but because her hands shaking so badly that it had been rattling in an embarrassingly loud fashion.

They made their way to the vehicle outside without a further word exchanged. Molly slid into the back seat feeling shell shocked. Sherlock clearly thought he was dying and wanted to be sure that she wanted to see him to say goodbye, a nervous flutter in her chest whispered that he was going to tell her he loved her, she desperately tried to ignore the voice but she found she couldn't, she'd always been able to read him and now was no exception.

On the heels of this realisation came another, the understanding that he was only going to tell her because he was dying, hence the reference to a philosophical discussion they had one night in the lab years ago that he hadn't deleted for reasons only known to himself.

The rest of the ride she sat trying to keep a hold of her emotions because she didn't want to get to him and do some sort of feeling dump on him when he clearly needed her.

The trip took around an an hour, they arrived at an old stone building with a circular driveway, it should have seemed to be a home or at the least a house, but the guards posted sentry at the large electronic gates and the lookout post high above looking down on them all negated that possibility.

Her palms were slick with sweat, fear pooled acidic in her stomach and her lips trembled, this was a military prison, a private, high profile, prison. Designed to contain the uncontainable, like Sherlock Holmes.

Bile lurched up into her throat, the sour taste doing her the favour of at least drawing her back to the present and reminding her to be strong for him. _What had he done?_

One of the agents came and took her by her elbow to lead her up to the door, after a quiet radioed confirmation she was ushered inside only to see Mycroft Holmes sitting in an armchair, hands steepled in front of him.

He stood immediately and gave her what she guessed he must think would pass for a smile among the living. "Miss Hooper, thank you for coming, he needs…" Clearing his throat he blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, his voice a croak, "He needs something I can't give him, he needs to be loved," his eyes were shining as he drew in a shaky breath, "He," he stopped and tilted his head assessing, "Do you still love him?" He swallowed hard to gain a modicum of control over his wayward emotions and waited for her to respond.

"I've never stopped, I never will, he's.."

"He's yours, as you are his, and he needs you to be with him now while he still can," his face stretched in a horrendous imitation of a smile, "Am I correct in assuming that nothing would ever cause you to cease loving him?"

Molly raised her eyebrows, "Well, after testing positive for drugs, having a fake almost engagement, getting himself shot and then escaping from the hospital I'm still here, so I'd say you're safe in that supposition, yeah."

"There's more." His gaze was stern, it told her to prepare herself for a storm. "Sherlock killed a man tonight, killed him in cold blood while surrounded by agents, even I bore witness to it. It is not within my power to save him this time Miss Hooper. He is flying to his exile, one last job for the British government," he held out his empty hands as though to show her that he had no cards to play here.

"Exile?"

"He won't be coming back, I give him six months. He has three weeks before he needs to be in place in Eastern Europe, he wishes to spend those weeks with you, it is his dying wish."

Molly's legs had gone numb and she folded onto the floor suddenly unable to draw breath.

Mycroft watched her not without pity, but with nothing to offer her, "You will need to marry him, you cannot stay here unless you are his spouse, I have all the paperwork ready, there's a dress and a celebrant. Is this something you wish to do?"

"Where is he?" Her voice was a hollow echo of her normal pitch.

"I'm sorry Miss Hooper, you cannot see him unless you agree to marry, it took a lot to even get this, his service to his country made this possible."

"Of course I'll marry him, bring him in – please."

Mycroft nodded to the agents who were in the doorway awaiting instructions and they went and gathered the dress and Anthea bustled in with a large make up case.

Molly was stripped and redressed unceremoniously and make up was feathered lightly onto her face. Half an hour later she was stood in the hall waiting for Sherlock to come in through the doors.

The doors opened and Sherlock strode in, eyes flicking everywhere, taking it all in, until he saw Molly, his gaze snagged on her and he didn't look away, his eyes were gentle on her face, a caress, a promise.

Molly's heart was pounding in her chest, she didn't know what this meant to him, was this just to have someone and she being the single friend was the logical choice for a supporting role in the last weeks of Sherlock Holmes' life?

The ceremony was brief and to the point, all of Anthea's hard work slid off Molly's face tear by tear as she waited to be alone with her husband, her thoughts caught on that, Sherlock Holmes was her husband, and though she didn't as yet know in what capacity that was to be, it was utterly mind boggling information to process.

Sherlock took her by the hand and led her out of the hall through to a more domesticated portion of the dwelling, "I'm sorry," his voice was a whisper, as he led her down corridors.

When they arrived at their room Molly was shocked to see it fitted out in honeymoon suite style, rose petals, chocolates, chilled champagne, strawberries, both dipped in chocolate and nude next to a bowl of cream, there were aphrodisiacs, condoms, scented massage and bath oils.

Molly looked around in shock, her arms hanging slack at her sides, she'd forgotten she was even holding his hand still. Sherlock squeezed her hand to get her attention and she looked up at him surprised to see his pupils dilated and his breathing shallow, "May I kiss you Mrs. Holmes?"

Molly fought tears as she nodded, his lips were so soft against hers, he threaded his hand into her pony tail and tilted her head to better deepen the kiss and when she moaned he hissed in a breath and walked her backward to the bed, "Molly, can I? I need to."

"Yes, yes, please," her hands were roaming all over his slim torso, finally grasping his shirt and pulling at it till she could free it from his pants, the trail of hair leading from his belly button down tickling her knuckles, he sucked in a breath and she begged him, "My zip, open my zip."

He turned her away from him and inched her zip down, his hands dipped inside and made wide sweeping strokes down, then he cupped her breasts from behind, pulling her against his aching prick and grinding into her.

When his fingers started twisting and pulling her nipples Molly gasped and felt wetness gathering in her centre in readiness for him, she arched her back and threw her head back against his shoulder, his extra height gave him the ability to lean forward and suck her bottom lip into his mouth.

Molly groaned and twisted her body to face him while slipping the dress off, Sherlock's eyes darkened further when he saw how damp her knickers already were before he'd really touched her.

He dropped to his knees and trailed kisses down between her breasts, sucking each one into mouth and swirling and sucking until they were pebbled, he continued south, lazily placing open mouthed kisses until he reached her mons pubis, he cradled it in his hand through the fabric of her knickers, his fingers wrapping around underneath causing her to make desperate keening noises.

He slipped his hands into the front of her knickers and lowered them carefully, inhaling her scent, his cock twitched with each surge of blood caused by his desire for her..

He pushed her tummy back a little, until the back of her knees hit the bed, he encouraged her to sit, not missing the sharp intake of breath the feeling of the bedcovers scraping against her caused.

He knelt between her legs and savoured what was about to happen then he lowered his head and just breathed, just a light hot breath, Molly's hips bucked, "Oh! Please, please touch me, I need to feel you."

Sherlock closed the distance and immediately sucked her clit into his mouth, sucking and licking, he pushed a finger inside and felt her walls clenching, he kept his finger pumping in and out before adding another one, still sucking on her, the taste of her making him harder than he thought it was possible to be.

Molly's pelvis was rocking up again and again as she neared her orgasm panting, "Sherlock, oh Sherlock, it feels so good, don't stop, please don't stop." When her orgasm hit her whole body was taut and Sherlock watched her transfixed that he'd been able to bring her such intense pleasure.

"I need to bury myself in you now, I want to feel your sweet body one with mine, he dragged himself over her and lined up his prick with her "still on the pill?"

Molly nodded and reached down to finish guiding him in, _Oh even his cock is beautiful_ , was her ridiculous thought, she rolled her hips and hissed in a breath as he started to move, she looked down to see him sliding in and out, she watched up on her elbows until the erotic sight took her near the point of orgasm again, she lay back down and offered him her leg to put over his shoulder, the new angle Allowing him to push in deeper, he started pounding into her hard, his hips smacking against her arse each time, "Sherlock, make me come again."

He reached down and slicked his fingers back and forth across her aching bud, she pulsed around his stiff prick and he continued pounding into her hard, when he came it was so intense his vision went white.

He slumped onto the bed next to her Molly, they were both gasping for air, "Well, that was unexpected."

Sherlock pushed himself up onto one hand and narrowed his yes at her, "It shouldn't have been, you've always been able to read me, you couldn't read that I was in love with you?" He stroked a hand up and down her still heaving chest taking special care to go slowly and enjoy the feeling of the soft skin between her breasts.

Molly sighed, "Of course I knew, I broke it off with Tom didn't I? What I didn't read was you planning to do anything about it."

Sherlock looked pensive, "The circumstances my be somewhat less than ideal," he admitted, "But whatever the reason, it's you, it's always been you, and three weeks is better than no weeks Molly."

"Yes Sherlock, yes it is."

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	2. A bittersweet meal

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 **Chapter two**

 **A bittersweet affair**

Molly woke several hours later wrapped securely in Sherlock's long limbs, she was rather surprised at her lover – _husband_ , as if lover wasn't otherworldly enough in the context of her relationship with Sherlock - remained sleeping, for a man who chose to forgo sleep on a regular basis, now seemed to be an odd time to catch up on your z's.

Not that she minded really, she approved of the view very much, she was absurdly grateful for a chance to study him while he slept.

He was all smooth strong lines. He was muscular but with a runner's physique rather than gym built muscles his fitness was not for aesthetics but rather as an asset for his job, a,though he certainly didn't cultivate it he did milk it for whatever benefits it may offer him. He kept his body in condition the way one would a thoroughbred. Molly smiled at the comparison, Yes, a thoroughbred, _my_ thoroughbred.

The thought brought with it a smile to grace hers lips, followed by a swift kick to heart that left her breathless when she remembered just how numbered their days were.

She doubted she was the only woman who would only get to spend a scant three weeks attempting to fit a whole life time into it with her brand spanking new husband. She _did_ however, wonder if she was the only one to have to try and live a whole life time in three weeks whilst locked in a government, military facility while being guarded by MI6 agents armed and on shoot to kill orders.

Tears welled in her eyes and she tightened her grip on Sherlock, he shuffled around a little, then tilted his head up from its position on her chest to look at her.

"No tears, better than nothing, remember?"

Molly could feel his voice rumbling through her chest, it sent an ache with it, trying to entice her into debauching him again. Only too happy to oblige Molly ran a hand down over his back feeling the scar tissue against her fingers.

Sherlock hummed in agreement, her idea was a good one and he'd be happy to get on board. He sent his own fingers questing, walking them down over her abdomen and further down until reaching their final destination. When he swept his fingers over her he found she was already damp, sighing in appreciation he told Molly, "Kiss me wife."

Molly rolled him to his back and lay over his top half, she kept her legs apart to allow him continued access to her throbbing centre.

She pressed her lips against his in a chaste good morning kiss to begin with, although that went out the window when Sherlock flicked his fingers back and forth across her quim.

Molly gasped and then moaned, she bit his bottom lip hard to show how much she appreciated his talented violinist fingers working her so perfectly.

Sherlock grinned when she bit him, he knew it for the compliment it was, when she sucked his lip into her mouth to kiss it better a guttural sound issued from the back of his throat causing Molly to whimper.

"Sherlock, I need you, please," each word was panted out on a breath.

Sherlock eased her onto her back and positioned himself above her, Molly was clawing at him desperately, her nails trailing down his back, desperate to have him inside her again, with such a limited time to be together she needed as much of him as it was possible to get.

Tears slid down her face as he entered her, "Aaaahhhh, _Sherlock_ , please don't stop, don't stop," her pleas desperate with the knowledge that this would have to stop all too soon.

Sherlock grunted, his strokes were furious as if he could pour all of his love and anger and sorrow into this, their love making. If he could get far inside Molly to not be himself anymore, a murderer and a walking dead man.

"Sherlock, I love you," Molly wailed as her orgasm shook her body.

Sherlock felt her rippling and dancing around him, his own orgasm swiftly followed as he chanted, "Please forgive me, please forgive me," into her neck.

Molly felt him sobbing quietly against her neck as he softened but didn't move away, she shushed him and stroked his hair while her own tears ran down her cheeks.

They stayed this way until Sherlock's sobs slowed and he whispered to her, "My parents want to meet you, the woman who is now my wife, whom I have always have loved, Mycroft told them. Will you meet them?"

"Of course, I would love to meet the people responsible for two Holmes boys set loose in London." Molly smiled.

"Well, they may rather disappoint you then, love," Sherlock did not miss the fleeting glimpse of joy at him referring to her as love, "They are extremely, almost _poetically_ , normal." He looked almost embarrassed at the admission.

Molly laughed, "I'm sure _your_ version of poetically normal is a little different than everybody else's Sherlock. You and Mycroft can't be a coincidence, don't you both have a saying about that?"

"Hmmm, you pay far too much attention to me Mrs. Holmes," again the same joy danced across her features momentarily, assuring him that doing this was not selfish and ill advised, she was cherishing it as much as he was.

He hoped she would grow old with a man that was less like him and more like herself but he meant to wriggle under her skin, into her heart, - into her soul if such a thing existed – so that he would exist as a little part of her until the day she died. He hoped that day wouldn't come until she was positively ancient and well worn with love, surrounded by her children and grandchildren, all willing to listen to her adventures with the detective in her hey days.

He wondered whether or not she would accept the annulment that he'd had Mycroft had draw up with a lawyer or if she would insist on remaining Mrs. Holmes. He wouldn't discuss it with her, it would break him completely, he would leave it for Mycroft to do in his stead once he was gone, he wouldn't sully their time together with the questions of later. He would encase his sweet Molly in a bubble with him and fill her with as much joy as was in his power to give.

"So, my parents will be here in an hour, how about we have a bath together?" Smiling in expectation at what he knew would follow this invitation.

"A bath? I love…well of course you know I love baths, who am I talking to?" Molly's face was shining with happiness.

An hour later Molly smoothed her pale lemon dress down nervously, Sherlock smiled at her, "You look like a goddess Molly, all of your clothes here were hand picked for our honey moon together - with my specifications as to styles and sizes in mind – by Anthea, you look perfect, they will love you, as I do," his voice was soft on the last words and he leaned into her and gave her a lingering kiss, as he did so the doors pushed open and Violet and Siger Holmes came in.

Violet Holmes exclaimed "Oh!" With a sob, rushing towards Molly with her arms open and tears glistening in her eyes, " _Oh_ , my darling, come to me my beautiful girl, my _daughter_! Welcome to our family, I'm so happy to see you." Tears were falling fast as she kissed Molly's cheeks and hugged her tightly, whispering "Will I get to keep you, _when_.." Her words broke off with a sob.

Molly was sobbing along with her, whispering, "Please, _please_ keep me in your family, I love him so much Mrs. Holmes, I always have."

Siger Holmes stood embracing Sherlock quietly, Sherlock endured it, going so far as to give his father a pat on the back. Then they stepped back and exchanged a rather English handshake.

Violet and Molly turned to Siger and in a synchronised movement held their hands out to their men to join in the hug, they all four stood swaying together, the men sporting the famous English stiff upper lips and the women unashamedly sobbing quietly.

Violet stood back a little and clapped her hands together once in a let's get on with it gesture, she was not given to maudlin displays of emotion and she felt that the moment had gone on long enough, they were all going to sink into the murk of sadness if they kept this up. "Breakfast? Mycroft?" She enquired in an imperious tone.

Molly smiled, she now understood the Holmes brothers just a little better, she glanced at Siger who seemed to be happy to take a more retiring role, Ah, she thought, like mother like son, she was fairly certain he would turn out to be eerily similar to herself and John.

Mycroft strolled into the room and took them all in, his lip curled up when he saw the tears adorning their faces, he had chosen to wait to come inside after his parents to avoid this very thing.

Displays of emotion made him feel like he was out at sea in a hurricane in a canoe with a newspaper to keep him dry, as one would imagine, he did whatever was necessary to avoid that.

Lunch was duly ordered and it was a bittersweet affair indeed.

Molly felt like she had a family again, at long last she had the man she had loved for so many years finally acknowledging that he returned that love, then of course she would remember the catalyst for the change and thoughts of his impending departure would intrude, every so often she would swipe away a runaway tear and close her eyes to try and regain her equilibrium.

Mycroft sat desperately trying to calculate an angle that would allow his baby brother – and he still was his baby brother, however unlikely that sounded with regards to Mycroft – to remain in England. Every avenue he let his mind travel down came to a giant screeching holt at a dead end, discussing ideas with Sherlock was not an option, they had everything recorded in high res, audio and visual.

He and Sherlock had discussed whether or not it was fair to have Molly unaware that her every move recorded even during intimate moments but he had ultimately left the decision up to Sherlock, who had decided that while it wouldn't change her behaviour in the slightest it would embarrass her, it was a decision he hoped his little brother wouldn't come to regret.

Lunch was over in time and Violet and Siger agreed to return the following day with photo albums featuring a baby Sherlock for Molly to giggle over. Sherlock glared at them but the sting was rather taken out when he thanked his mother.

When they were alone again Sherlock pounced, "Mrs Holmes, I must have you immediately, it's been," he made a show of checking his watch, "Three hours and nineteen minutes since I was last inside of you," he turned Molly so she faced away from him, his breath hot in her ear as he continued, "Far too long, my love."

Molly twisted her neck and offered it to him, when he took up her up on her offer and bit into her pulse point she cried out. Sherlock smiled against her skin and decided this time would be rough, he had decided that during their three weeks he would take in every position they could conceivably twist themselves into, just like any other marriage, albeit condensed into three weeks.

He planned to try toys, blind folds, scarves, delayed pleasure, he wanted to make Molly scream till she was horse, no other man would be able to compare to him after this time they had together, and of course there was the added bonus of giving the list of requirements to Mycroft to procure.

"Molly, take your pants off and lean over the couch, leave the dress on," he commanded.

Molly's breath was harsh as she told him, "I'm not wearing _pants_ ," Sherlock sucked in a breath and trailed a hand over the front of her dress firmly across her breasts and tummy and down over her thighs. He slowly slid up his hand under the dress over the silky smooth skin of her thighs and finally let out that breath in a gust when he felt her wet and ready, "Molly, you're so sexy, I didn't know you were this sexy, how did I not know that?"

"Sometimes even _you_ miss things Mr. Holmes," Molly tossed over her shoulder as she broke away from him to drape herself over the couch as he'd ordered.

Sherlock's eyes widened, he could see every inch of her, his cock sprang to attention and he groaned aloud thinking about how sinking into her again was going to feel from this angle. Unbuttoning his pants he moved towards her, he wanted to taste her but she wiggled her bottom just so and he snapped, "I am going to devour you Molly."

Molly felt the cold air wash over her from his movements and shivered, she was so aroused that in her sensitivity she could feel the air caressing her, "Sherlock?" As she formed his name she felt him positioning himself at her entrance, "Aahh-Aaaahhhh, yes, mmmm."

Sherlock pushed inside with a feeling of pure bliss matching Molly's own. He ran his hands up and down her back while she adjusted, waiting for her to signal that he should move, "Are you ready, Molly?"

She arched back which allowed him to go even deeper, taking that as an affirmative he eased back out nearly all the way, grabbing her hips tightly he slammed back in bottoming out and hearing Molly give a satisfying, "Oh, yesss, just like that, ahh."

Sherlock slammed into her relentlessly, he gave no quarter, nor did Molly wish for him too, reaching a hand around to her clit, he rubbed his fingers back and forth, almost vibrating them in his intensity.

Molly's hips were bucking in time to her pulsing around his cock and she was gasping an endless stream of "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah."

"Oh god, Molly, I can't, I'm going to come Molly, it's too good, I can't.."

"Come now," she shrieked as she spasmed with her orgasm, "Ohhhhhh."

Sherlock came as Molly's movements slowed, he dropped his head onto her back panting and whispering words of endearment before seeking reassurance he hadn't hurt her.

"Only in the _best_ possible way Mr. Holmes, now that giant tub is calling my name again, would you like to join me?"

Sherlock pulled himself of Molly reluctantly, he helped her to stand up and when she turned to him he kissed her firmly on the mouth with closed lips desperately, she returned his fervour until she pulled away.

Cupping his face in her hands she assured him, "No one can take all the years we've had Sherlock, sex doesn't define our love, I've loved you and you've loved me, in our own ways. This is beautiful and I love it, but I've always, always loved you and you loved me too, even when you didn't want to."

"Thank you Molly, I don't know what I did to deserve you, I _don't_ deserve you, but you make my heart beat."

Their kiss was sweet as their tears mingled on their cheeks, Molly pulled away first and took his hand leading him to the bath, she was determined that melancholy would not spoil this, three weeks is a gift, she would pack her heart into this time they had and let it rip her in half later.

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 **What do you guys think? Is it still working for you? I think I could probably slowly piece together their last three weeks together if the ideas keep coming, I'm really enjoying this one!**


	3. The art of love

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* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **The Art of Love**

* * *

"Oh he's so _sweet_ , look at his little eye patch! That's _darling_ ," Molly's face lit up with a smile, Sherlock gave her a mock glare but his heart wasn't in it, to see her happy even for a moment was worth all the humiliation his mother could pack into a visit.

His mother was thriving on Molly's companionship too, she seemed to be using Molly to stem the tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm her at the thought of losing her son. It wouldn't work forever, when he left she would crumple but she would still take comfort from Molly, they would crumble together and build each other back up..

"Oh look! Mycroft! Look at his little bow tie! Is he going to a wedding, or..?"

"No, no wedding love, Mycroft insisted on being dressed appropriately at all times, he has always been a proper little politician, I'm surprised he agreed to wear nappies in his infancy to be honest." They both guffawed loudly at this one.

Mycroft looked over at Sherlock and raised an eyebrow, "I hardly think it fair that I must be subjected to this humiliation simply because you've decided to get yourself a goldfish at the least opportune time."

"Mycroft, you can cut the act, it's too late, I know about your conversation with Molly, you love her and you love me, sentiment, it gets us all in the end, maybe I'll take a look at the footage."

Sherlock's face was smug until Molly popped in with, "Take a look? How would you take a look at our conversation Sherlock?" Her brow furrowed, she saw Mycroft exchange a charged look with Sherlock.

"Sherlock?" Molly began slowly, her confusion evident "What did you mean?"

Sherlock turned away swallowing hard, his look of guilt causing nausea to bloom in Molly's stomach.

Molly was colouring with both embarrassment and anger, " _Where_ are the cameras, Sherlock? Are they all through this place?" Her tone had dropped into a terrifying low register.

The fact that Sherlock did not immediately reply made the answer all too evident, with a sob Molly gasped out, "Excuse me," to Siger and Violet.

After a few moments there was a quiet click as their bedroom door closed and the lock could clearly be heard engaging.

"Sherlock? Son, you've been living here as man and wife with cameras trained on you both _without_ her knowledge?"

"I was trying to protect her, I didn't want her to feel.. Unclean." He sighed and dropped his head into his hands, "This is why I don't do relationships.."

Violet Holmes narrowed her icy eyes at Sherlock, he visibly blanched and shrunk back in his seat. " _Don't you dare_! Don't you dare shut down when you've made a mistake and she's hurting, you don't get to say it's too hard and throw your hands up. I raised you better than this William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you go to her and you fix it, **now**!"

Sherlock stood up, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, he'd rather encounter an assassin or take down a drug smuggling ring than deal with this type of emotion. He forced himself to take steps down the hall towards their bedroom.

"Mycroft?" Violet was looking at him like a bug found in the bath, his face gave him away the Ice Man was indeed capable of guilt.

"How was it that Molly didn't know when she walked in the doors? We knew and yet we're not the ones here on our honeymoon, care to explain Mycroft Holmes?"

Mycroft cleared his throat, he coloured a little – a rare sight indeed - "I may have been mistaken in leaving the matter to Sherlock, my intentions were not to be deceitful, he thought to spare her feelings of embarrassment, I shall of course apologise in due time."

Siger looked at Mycroft, his lips were pressed firmly together, eyes telegraphing disappointment, Mycroft knew the look well, more often it was directed at Sherlock but he'd certainly experienced his share,

Mycroft forced himself to meet his fathers eyes, "I am sorry, I will apologise to her tomorrow, I think it would be best for her not to see me while she's feeling like this."

Violet's eyes softened, "Yes, that poor darling needs some time with her idiotic husband. Siger? Shall we?"

Siger smiled sadly and nodded, "They'll be alright Violet, they _need_ this, they need to feel like a real couple who fight and make up, they have such a _short_ ," he paused for a moment closing his eyes and drawing in a shaky breath, "They have such a short time, it won't feel like a real marriage if it's lived in a bubble, it's not a holiday fling, our son makes mistakes, this is probably not even his worst."

Mycroft and Violet exchanged a glance, he was right, it didn't make what Sherlock did right but it did mean that they might be okay. Siger's wisdom was hardly new, he'd always, always seen straight into the heart of emotional matters but never had it been such a great comfort to them to know that Sherlock hadn't thrown away everything in his idiocy, they needed Molly as much as he did.

Sherlock could hear Mycroft and his parents gathering their things together to leave, he'd been pacing up and down outside the door unsure what to do. His mother was of course, absolutely right, he couldn't be cowardly and leave Molly to feel this on her own.

God knows why but Molly felt better with him than she did with anyone else, he could not understand why this should be so, considering himself, but he knew it to be true and he knew the best way to make her feel better was to just be there with her while she felt her emotions, be a shoulder, not a little boy seeking reassurance himself when he had done wrong.

He knocked on the door softly and called "Molly? May I come in?"

Molly's answer was muffled from the blankets, "No!"

She was clearly rolled up into the blanket like a sausage in bread, that disgusting combination that children favoured, - piggy in the blanket - "Molly, please let me try to explain?"

"Sherlock, what can you possibly explain? I thought I was honeymooning with the man I love with what little time we have," Sherlock could hear her sniffing and knew she was swiping at her eyes, angry that she had given in to the tears.

Her voice was harsh when she continued, "Maybe I should thank you, my childhood dream of becoming a porn star has finally been realised, lucky, lucky me."

"Really?" Sherlock asked scrunching the bridge of his nose in the way that Molly loved, she knew he was out there doing it too, her only saving grace lay in the fact that she couldn't see him. He rattled the door handle again hopefully, "Molly?

"Do you understand sarcasm Sherlock? Why the fuck would I have a childhood dream of being a porn star? I dreamed of being a doctor! Now go away!"

"Molly, if I could just," Sherlock paused trying to gather his thoughts.

"Sherlock there's really not much left for you to do is there? _The things we did_ … They were private, and maybe I would have done them anyway but I should have be allowed to choose for _myself_. Do you understand that? You always keep secrets from everyone else because you think you know better, but you don't! You don't get to decide this for me, I'm not a child Sherlock."

Sherlock felt a bolt of terror slice through him at the thought of Molly might leave, that he might have finally done it, he ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes, he'd messed this up so badly. "I'm sorry Molly, I was so wrong."

Sherlock heard Molly moving around, he remained statue still as he waited to hear what she would do next. When he heard the lock click he felt his heart expand, he stood gasping for breath and holding his chest.

When Molly opened the door and saw him like that her eyes filled with tears, "Sherlock, I would never leave you over a mistake, even an extremely serious one, I took vows, they meant some thing to me, but even if I hadn't, I've never left you. But I'm angry, _so very angry_ that you didn't trust me to make my own decisions. I think we both know I would have done it all anyway but I should have _known_."

Sherlock's voice was barely a whisper, "I wanted to spare you further pain, I knew you would…that you wanted…ah, I didn't want you to feel humiliated."

"Sherlock, I need to meet them, call Mycroft, set it up, now please."

Sherlock stood nodding, "Molly?" Please don't hate me?"

Molly sighed, "I never could Sherlock, I've never been able to, I doubt I'll suddenly start now, but I will get angry."

"They're still here, I'll text him. They're waiting to see if you want to leave." His face was a question he was terrified she'd answer.

Molly softened, "Sherlock, we don't have time for me to leave," she closed her eyes and smoothed her hands over her face, "Just take me to the agents, please."

Sherlock's phone dinged, he looked down at it and frowned, "Molly, my phone is, ah…well it's bugged too."

Molly offered him a wan smile, "Well I would expect so, if they're filming us…our more intimate moments, phone calls are..." She trailed off throwing her hands up.

"He's ready," Sherlock held out his hand to her, eyes imploring, desperately hoping he would not be rebuffed.

Molly looked up at him, he had never looked more like a little boy to her, already beginning to forgive him - he'd always, always been her biggest weakness – she slipped her hand into his and linked their fingers. They walked out together to face what needed to be faced, together.

Violet took in their tightly clasped hands, she closed her eyes briefly heaving a sigh as she did so. Siger wore a look of pride that they were coming through like he thought they would, there would be bumps while this was worked out, but their love was strong.

Mycroft was unusually solemn even for his standards, he raised his head and looked directly at Molly allowing her to see his shame, he drew breath ready to offer his heartfelt apology.

Molly silenced him by raising her other hand, "Mycroft, can we discuss this another time? Right now I just really need to see who is watching me in my most intimate moments."

Mycroft's mouth snapped shut, he nodded, visibly straining to hold his tongue, his politician's demeanour made him feel discombobulated not offering an apology but he had the grace to acquiesce to Molly's demands.

Sherlock watched the little display without external reaction, now was not the time to crow over his big brother being cowed by the diminutive younger Mrs. Holmes. His internal comedian soon sobered with his realisation that he himself was rather wrapped around the pinky of the doe eyed pathologist holding his hand.

Mycroft inclined his head towards the door that led to the foyer area that Molly had entered through upon arrival. Situated on the opposite side of the room was a door leading to the other half of the house where the agents ate, slept, and watched.

Molly's face was drained of colour, her vulnerability plain, even through her anger she clung to Sherlock needing all the comfort he could give.

"Molly, are you sure?" Sherlock was apprehensive, he couldn't really see how this would help.

Molly nodded, she straightened her posture, tilted her head up as she crossed the floor to the other door, determined to meet this challenge face on. You didn't bag a coveted specialist registrar position at an inner city hospital in London without having nerves of steel to call on when needed.

Pushing open the door Molly walked in, the door opened into a carpeted hallway, judging from the way sounds hushed when the the heavy door closed behind them this place was sound proofed.

A woman appeared at the end of the hallway apparently summoned by the door breach. She was around thirty, athletic, short tousled blonde hair and a ready wide smile, she walked toward them calling a hello as she came. "Hi! Molly and Sherlock Holmes? I'm Kelly," Her accent was mild but clearly Irish, "Would you like to come through and see the monitors?"

Molly looked up at Sherlock briefly, he smiled down at her but it was a sorrowful smile. She looked back at the agent, "Yes, please Kelly," she was determined not to make it uncomfortable for the agents who were simply doing their jobs, she just needed to know how intimate their all-seeing gaze actually was.

The room they walked into was not wall to wall monitors as Molly had feared, there were four monitors in total and none were on. Molly and Sherlock wore matching expressions of confusion.

Kelly laughed, "Did you think we sat in here with popcorn watching you all day?" She winked at Molly, "Would you like me to explain how it works love?"

Molly's face was hopeful, "Yes please."

Kelly gave her a reassuring smile, "Okay, this is based on algorithms that are changed at least three times a day," she gave Sherlock a mock glare, "So no point in attempting how to work it out Mr. genius man. The sound is on for around 65% of the day, mainly waking hours but any time over night a random time period of sound be recorded. The visual component is on for about 35% of the day, again it's random Mr. Holmes, so don't go getting any ideas."

Sherlock answered quietly, "Molly is with me, there will be no tricks, I will not risk her safety. My punishment is mine alone." It was Molly's turn to squeeze his hand.

"Okay, now of course I know why you're here, I'll address that now." She pointed to a large red button. "That button is pressed when a block of surveillance begins and there are activities taking place that must remain private. The sound always begins first for a minimum of ten minutes, during that time if there is any indication that things may be headed in a direction that is best kept between the couple in question, the big red button cuts the surveillance block and it will begin again at a random period no less than at least twenty minutes later, again Mr. Holmes, seeing as you have no idea when it may have been red buttoned there's still no way to calculate."

Sherlock rolled his eyes not bothering to dignify this last with a response, his stance was clear.

"One last thing, I don't know if this will make you more comfortable but I'll tell you because it would make _me_ more comfortable, all of the surveillance team members are women, it's my squad, hand picked," Kelly looked at Molly intently, "Your privacy is of paramount importance to me and my team Mrs Holmes."

"Thank you," Molly whispered, she turned and leaned her head on Sherlock's chest sighing, "I need to sleep a little now, I'm so tired."

Sherlock released her hand and wrapped his arm around her to draw her closer, he rubbed circles on her back and she sighed again, though this time it was contented.

Sherlock nodded at Kelly gratefully, "Thank you for assuaging her fears."

"My pleasure, you go lay down now sweetheart." Kelly smiled at her fondly, already caught in Molly's sweet orbit.

Sherlock led Molly out, she offered no resistance, the fire in her belly having been doused with all that Kelly had told her. They made their way back down the hallway they had entered through together with such a storm of emotions so recently.

Sherlock was numb with relief, he hadn't wanted to admit even to himself how desperate he'd been at the thought that he'd finally made her see that he was trouble and simply not worthy of her.

As they passed Mycroft and his parents Sherlock stared at Mycroft, gauging whether or not what they'd been told was a carefully constructed lie for Molly's benefit or the actual truth.

Mycroft's face revealed nothing, he either didn't know how it was done or he didn't know what they'd been told, what he didn't see was guilt which he took as a good sign.

His mother and father looked at Molly snuggled against him and then looked at his face, their opinion was clear, you're a very lucky man, luckier than your behaviour warrants.

Sherlock took Molly into the bedroom and slipped her dress over her head, she wore no bra, his mouth watered at the sight of her breasts when they sprang free, he was transfixed watching them rise and fall with her breathing.

Molly heard his breathing shatter and looked up at him, her eyes were hooded, half dreaming already, "Make love to me Sherlock?"

He hissed and drew her against him, his lips on hers were gentle, he palmed her breasts and was rewarded with a murmur as she arched into his hands.

God he'd been a fool, he could have loved her properly for years instead of keeping her at a careful distance, it had taken his impending doom to be able to face it. He was aware of his cruelty but consoled himself with the thought that if she loved him even half as much as he worshipped her the cruelest thing would be never to know that your love was returned, never experiencing moving together as one.

Breaking away from her he scrabbled at his buttons wanting to feel her bare skin against his, when he slipped it off Molly leaned into him not bothering to hold her own weight up, her breasts were flat against him and she simply tilted her head up for him to kiss her again, he groaned and picked her up by her waist not breaking their kiss, he turned to sit on the bed, groaning in frustration when he realised he had his trousers on and she had her pants.

He let her slide down shivering at the feeling of her breasts slipping against his skin so heavily, Molly sighed, closing her eyes and biting her lip. She didn't move as he fumbled with his trousers and pants, desperate to pull them off. Molly simply leaned her head on his shoulder looking contented and still sleepy, finally he managed to get them past his feet without dropping her.

He sat down on the bed and left her standing for a moment between his legs to deal with her pants. Molly's gaze landed on his prick bobbing up and down between his legs and her sharp intake of breath made him even more frantic, he leaned in to get to her at pants deciding to simply rip them off, then he lifted her up onto his lap.

He held her with one hand squeezing around her tiny waist, their size differences so acute that he could encircle her completely using just his two hands should he desire to do so. With his other hand he reached between them and grasped himself, he stroked slowly knowing Molly was watching and had an obvious appreciation for the fact of his manhood.

Sherlock stroked his cockhead against her already soaking folds slowly, back and forth paying special attention to her clitoris, her hips rocking back and forth signalling her need increasing.

"Please, Sherlock, I'm ready, please?"

Oh god, when she _begged_ , he grasped her waist on the other side and tilted her hips up, she reached down with her hand and positioned him at her entrance, as she eased down fully impaling herself they sought each other's lips, their kisses were languid and sweet.

Sherlock, - far from everyone's expectations - had indeed had sex many times, he just saw no reason to brag about it, it was hardly an achievement, moronic people managed it daily. When he was immersed in his drug use in university he used his body as a veritable playground of sensations. So he did of course indulge, he didn't want his mind sharp at that time, rather the opposite. Because he hadn't learnt to control it at all, he sought to dull it, to break from it in order to gain a modicum of peace.

However, unlike his idiotic classmates he never slept with girls from school, he watched their little dalliances with ill disguised contempt, they made messes with useless sentiment, they destroyed scholarships, relationships with teachers, parents, all for what they termed – incorrectly he had surmised - love.

He'd scoffed at the term love making, thought it overly sentimental drivel thrown around to convince girls that what they were doing was romantic rather than physical like the animals they really are. Certainly every coupling he'd ever had experienced had been purely physical, bodily functions and chemicals and synapses firing in the brain.

Now though, with Molly's leaning against his shoulder, his arms curled around her naked waist, her silken skin sliding against his, her breasts grazing his torso, hips rocking slowly and gently back and forth, she was whispering to him sweet words about love, need, and want.

He whispered back how beautiful she was and how perfect and kissed her face all over, she turned her head towards his and whispered, "Oh, Sherlock kiss me now I'm going to.."

Her speed increased as did her delightful moans, he captured her lips with his own and thrust up harder whilst using his hands on her waist to anchor her and tilt her pelvis on the right angle so he would hit her clitoris with each stroke.

As they explored each other's mouths and rocked together, Sherlock felt lost in a sea of emotion, for the first time in his life he understood what making love actually meant. "Oh! Molly, I'm..we're making _love_ , ah, I love you, I love you."

He felt Molly's smile against his lips and her tears on his cheeks, as they both rocked to their completion, the sweetness almost unbearable in its intensity.

They sat breathing hard locked together until Sherlock had softened and slipped out, "Sleep? Lie down with me Sherlock." Molly drowsily slipped off and rolled into bed.

Sherlock curved himself around her, his thoughts a tangle, he was simultaneously the most miserable and the most happy he'd ever been, he dozed off in a state of confusion.

* * *

 **Are we all enjoying this?**

 **Looks like it will be a very long, very smutty story with feels..**

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	4. Emotional Bingo

**Thank you so much to everyone who has followed or favourited my story or me, or found me on Tumblr!**

 **Special thanks go to Bucky 5, Mione W. G for your reviews, also thanks to the guest who reviewed also, I couldn't respond to your review as you were here as a guest so I'll answer here your question in case confusion remains.**

 _ **Guest:It might be stupidity on my part but I still don't understand why Sherlock films them both and how it will affect Molly's safety. Though the smut is great!**_

 ***I'm sorry if I was unclear about WHO was filming our OTP... but it's the British government that's to blame here, not everyone's favourite consulting detective. And let's not forget, he DID commit murder and is capable of escaping from just about any prison they put him in. The cameras are necessary. Thanks for the interesting questions!***

* * *

 **Chapter four**

 **Emotional bingo**

* * *

Molly scrubbed her teeth absentmindedly wondering if she was being filmed, _What's the etiquette? Do I smile and wave? Do I pretend not to notice? Perhaps the strangest part is the fact that I never know._ Leaning into the basin she swept her hair back with one hand, she spat under the running water and stood back up hitting a solid wall of flesh.

"Hmm," she hummed, his hands were sliding around, cresting out in an arc over her shoulders down over her tummy and further down, goosebumps erupted in waves over her skin, hissing in a breath as she felt Sherlock's lips on her neck, chaste ticklish kisses until he bit hard into her pulse point, pulling a gasp from her throat and kindling a fire between her legs.

Molly twisted around to face him, mouth seeking his desperately, they came together with a ferocious need, gone was the gentle love making of the night before, the frantic need was overwhelming, emotions were ratcheting ever tighter, there was no singular emotion to feel, they were in an endless tumble of revolving emotions. Emotional bingo, that's how it felt, all the emotions rolling and roiling, any of them could bubble up.

Molly could feel the length of him hard against her stomach through her thin t-shirt, she fumbled around behind her to grasp the basin edge to lift her self up onto the vanity, Sherlock grasped her waist and lifted her. Once Molly was secure he reached down and pulled his pants down just enough to free his cock, hooking his underwear under his balls he pushed at her night shirt needing to be inside.

Molly held her t-shirt out of the way and shuffling to the very edge, spread her legs as wide as she could in invitation while tilting her pelvis up to show off her glistening, welcoming cleft. "I need to be fucked _hard_ , Mr. Holmes," her voice hoarse with desire.

Molly was already wet, one kiss from him and she was drenched, although that was hardly new, some days in the lab he'd demand she look through his microscope, he'd remain sitting and gesture for her to stand between his legs, she'd feel his breath on her skin and his legs warm and firm against her hips, he'd reach around her to adjust the settings, arms bracketing her, as he fiddled with the knobs, his scent overwhelming, his voice in her ear commanding her to look. She'd been terrified each time he'd feel her thundering heart or see her furious blush.

On more than one occasion she'd stumbled away from him, excusing herself to go to the bathroom, sopping wet and so aroused she'd been shaking, completely unable to control herself. She'd run in praying it was empty, slamming against the stall door, fumbling with the lock with one hand, even as the other was sliding down her inside her pants to find her clit, rubbing furiously, _shamefully_ , while trying not to shout his name out. Emerging some time later, flushed, slightly disheveled, a large bite mark on her upper forearm, careful to sink her teeth in where he couldn't see, but _convinced_ he knew anyway.

Sherlock was sliding his cock head along her folds, caressing her and circling her clit, "Sherlock?' Molly panted as he thrust up inside in one glorious stroke, his balls slapped against her arse and she whimpered. "Sherlock? Did. You. Know?" each word punctuated with another hard thrust, she'd never been fucked like this, his stamina was incredible.

"What? Did I know what Molly?" His words confused in his arousal, causing Molly to shiver, her desire for him pooling, and running in rivulets down her legs. Breaking off panting for a moment, she let her head fall and looked down, his pace was brutal, his cock was plunging in and out, the sight of it drove her crazy, "Oh, Sherlock, I fucking love your cock, it's perfect," Molly was shaking with pleasure.

Sherlock slowed and put his hands under her arse to pick her up, he carried her to the bed and sat down on the edge, Molly still impaled on his cock, he was panting just as hard as Molly was. "My cock is perfect for _your_ cunt Molly, it was made for it," his thrusts getting progressively harder and harder.

"I used to fuck myself on my hand, in the bathroom, did you know?" Each word came out on an exhale as she bounced up and down on his cock.

Sherlock could feel her breasts bouncing with each thrust against him, the image of her fingering herself thinking about him while he jerked off in the stair well seared into his brain, he made a guttural noise like an animal, half way between a scream and a growl. Sherlock gripped her tighter and plunged her downward, he pounded up harder into her, Molly's head fell forward as she whined in ecstasy.

"I knew," he bit out, "I used to go in the stair well, imagine fucking you just like this, John thought I was sneaking cigarettes, he thought you were crying." Each word was was sending them both further into a frenzy. The day you dropped your pen and bent down while still between my legs, I put my hands out to grab your waist and John walked in, I would have fucked you right there in the lab, Tom or no Tom."

"I would have let you, oh, Sherlock. Kiss me? I want you to kiss me while… Ohhhhh"

Sherlock and Molly attacked each other's mouths while she rippled and clenched pulling him over the edge with her, their kisses were sloppy, both too far gone to manage any sort of finesse, but neither wanted a delicate kiss in that moment, they wanted it raw. Both needing to feel every single thing they could in the time they had left, both all too well aware of the time wasted by Sherlock over the years and desperate to absorb every drop out of the time they did have.

Molly's head dropped against Sherlock's chest, he kissed the top of her head and then picked her up and flopped on the bed, releasing her at the last moment so that she landed next to him. Molly smiled, as she flopped down, exhausted but well used, "Your physical strength is incredibly sexy you know."

Sherlock smirked at her, "I do know, I make a point of showing it off for you, I know _everything_ you like Molly," he dragged out the words.

Molly sighed happily, "I've got a few surprises up my sleeve yet Mr. Holmes."

"Hmm? Do you now?" Sherlock ran his eyes up and down her spread out body next to him appreciatively, from the way she dressed one would assume an average figure at best, average hardly came close, women magazines were air brushed to achieve such results, she was _fit_.

"Yoga," she told him with a grin.

Sherlock looked surprised, "Deducing _me_ now, Molly?"

"Nope, just know how where a man's mind goes when he's…looking." Sherlock huffed at being lumped in with other men.

Molly giggled and huffed out a breath, "Who's coming today, then?"

"The Watsons, Mycroft is afraid to face you," his laugh was one of pure amusement at Mycroft's discomfort.

Molly let him have it, after all there wasn't a lot to laugh about these days. "What time will the Watsons be arriving?"

Sherlock made a show of checking the time, "They should be here already," he confirmed with a slight nod.

Molly frowned, " _Here_?" Her hands came up to cover her face, "So while I was screaming about your cock the Watsons were outside having a chuckle at Mousy Molly not being such a mouse?" Mortification swallowed her whole.

Sherlock laughed at her, "They'll be out in the front room Molly, the _sound-proofed_ front room? Although do feel free to educate them on the pleasures of the flesh that my manhood has brought you, after all, people do expect a high level of performance from shag-a-lot Holmes."

Molly's head swivelled towards his, "You were sleeping with Janine?" She knew it was unfair to even ask, let alone be angry about, she'd had Tom after all, nonetheless, her mouth turned down as she sat up and slid off the bed, "Don't answer that, I don't want to know." Her voice fell flat.

Sherlock grabbed her hand and yanked her back down, he covered her body with his own, Molly closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him, she'd never resist him if she looked at him.

"Molly? What's wrong?" Sherlock stared down at her trying to deduce what was on her mind, how had they gone from orgasms to heartache within a single minute?

"What's _wrong_? I know what you're thinking, I had Tom so I can't complain if you're off with Boobs McGee shagging her senseless, but it is different, I didn't turn you down to be with Tom." A tear snaked its way down the side of Molly's face circumnavigating her ear and continuing on slowly to her neck, Sherlock watched its journey in silence.

Finally he spoke, "Yes, you _did_ ," his voice quiet, but firm, sure.

Molly sighed, "Sherlock, I think I'd remember if I'd turned you down, I asked you out, not the other way around."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, deciding, nodding to himself he spoke again, "I asked you to go for fish and chips with me, you...said… _no._ " His voice was flat now.

Molly's eyes sprang open, "Well, that wasn't a _date_."

"Hmm, you asked me for coffee, I asked you for fish and chips." He raised his eyebrows challenging her to name the difference.

"But, that _wasn't_ a date, you asked to to solve crimes, to say thank you, and then you were hungry," Molly's voice sounded far away, needing confirmation that she hadn't completely missed something so important.

"I asked you to go for fish and chips, though I knew I shouldn't, it was a moment of weakness, you said _no_ , I knew it was the right thing, so I tried to be happy and I told you that I understood why."

Molly wasn't moving, other than her eyes flickering back and forth as she attempted to reconcile her memories with his perceptions of that day.

"I _didn't_ sleep with Janine, however, I did persuade her to believe I was in love with her." His voice dropped even lower as he finished, "It was easy, I simply treated her how I wished to treat you."

Tears welled in Molly's eyes, this was unfair, being loved in return by this infuriating, beautiful, sexy man was all she'd ever wanted and he'd been in love with her? "Why didn't you make it clear?"

"I wanted to let you move on, surely even _you_ can see now that I'm not a good bet Molly, I'm sorry, I only.." He looked away and closed his mouth, pressing his lips together.

"You only told me you love me because you're going to die anyway." Molly's voice was barely a whisper, tears streamed down her face. "I already knew that, but it hurts to hear it out loud, what if something changes and you don't go?"

" _Molly_ ," he looked at her with pity in his eyes, he seemed to have more pity for her than himself, "there's not going to be a reprieve, nothing is going to save the day."

"And if something does?' Molly challenged.

Sherlock looked away, avoiding her eyes, his answer clearer in the silence than words would have been.

"But we're _married_ ," Molly was hurt and confused, even now, even as his wife, even knowing he adored her she was still on shaky ground emotionally, and soon he was going off to die, she would never know how it would feel to be around him with both feet planted on the ground.

"I wouldn't want to ever endanger you Molly, I live a dangerous lifestyle and you deserve better, but there's no point in going down this path, there's no possible way the British government will rescind my punishment and pardon me. I don't want to waste our time, okay?" His eyes were filled with remorse when he looked at Molly, she nodded and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

Sherlock leapt up and offered her his hand, "Shall we get ready to receive, m'dear?"

Molly giggled through her tears and he breathed a sigh of relief, he just wanted to make her happy with whatever time they had and he couldn't even manage that, for Molly's sake it was better that he wouldn't be around.

* * *

Mary and John were sitting with Sherlock talking in low voices when Molly made her way out a short time later.

She'd needed more time than Sherlock to pull herself together, she had no desire to embarrass herself with tears. She didn't know John all that well, for all that she had known him a long time, and Mary even less.

She gave Mary and John a watery smile when they looked up at her, Mary stood and made her way to Molly slowly and carefully, her trepidation clear. Mary wasn't really sure of the reception she'd get, given that she was the woman who'd shot him, and introduced him to Janine.

John had assured her that Molly was probably the sweetest human being on the planet, and Mary knew she must be, to have managed to get Sherlock Holmes to admit he loved her and marry her, no matter the circumstances, but she was still _human_ , and get humans bear grudges.

Molly held her arms out, Mary stepped in to her embrace gratefully breathing out a great sigh as she did so. "Is there anything I can do?" Mary asked, pulling back to look at Molly's face, keeping a hold of her hands.

"I can't really talk to many people about this, you could listen, I like to talk things out and I can't talk out how I feel _about_ him _with_ him."

Mary nodded, tears magnifying her wide eyes as she whispered gratefully, "I like talk too, I haven't had a real friend in a long time, it's been too dangerous."

Molly smiled, she needed someone to talk to, confide in, who would suspend judgement. Meena _hated_ Sherlock, blamed him for her engagement failing, she didn't think a quickie marriage followed by a three week honeymoon in a government facility under surveillance and surrounded by armed M.I.6 agents before he was shipped to his certain death for committing murder would help for her feelings to thaw any.

"Tea? You're carrying quite a load up front there." Molly gestured at Mary's stomach.

Mary rubbed her hands over her tummy, "Do you want to feel? She's pretty active in there."

Molly's eyes widened in wonder, " _Yes_ ," she breathed, she realised that tears were all but inevitable now, but she simply didn't care, a new baby, it seemed to somehow balance, life must continue, no matter what, and joy would always be taken in babies.

Reaching out her hands she lay them gently on Mary's stomach while looking up again to be absolutely certain it was still okay, wonder sparked through her, oh to have a baby, followed swiftly by the realisation that there would be no babies with Sherlock.

Mary saw the emotions thundering across her face, and whispered to her, "There are _always_ options Molly, even given your time constraints."

Molly looked up at her, surprised, "How did you?"

"It's a normal reaction," she cocked her head towards Sherlock, "Doesn't take a genius to figure it out, have you talked about it?"

Molly shook her head, biting her lip, she glanced towards Sherlock to see if he'd noticed them talking about her belly in this way, her eyes connected with his, they both stared at each other until Sherlock smiled sadly and Molly turned back to Mary.

"Well, I guess that's a conversation that'll be coming up, before I leave I'll put my number in your phone so we can stay in touch, okay? I'm not sleeping much because of the pregnancy, plus I put it on silent when I am able to sleep, so you can text any time, or call, if you prefer."

"Um, I guess I text, unless I'm really upset and then I call?" Molly looked like she'd been sucker punched, one more dream floating away.

Mary thought now was not the best time to get into a discussion about children, not when Sherlock hadn't been given a chance to lay out his thoughts for Molly, brightening and grabbing Molly's arm she asked, "Now, how about that tea? I'm drinking for two here, I'm growing a proper little English lady in here, and she needs her tea."

Sherlock and John's heads swivelled towards their women in tandem as Mary led Molly toward the kitchen, both sets of shoulders dropping in relief, if there was one thing Molly would need when Sherlock left it would be a _strong_ friend, and if there was one thing Mary had already proven, she had a particular talent for putting people back together after Sherlock was gone from their live's.

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	5. Touch me

**Thank you to everybody who is following and favouriting this story, some of you have followed or favourited me as an author! Which is so humbling and exciting, you're all so wonderful to me..**

 **Extra special thanks go to my reviewers for this last chapter:**

 **Icecat62 and a guest, babies, babies, babies! I hear ya, have to see where we end up!**

 **mistykins06 wow, that really is an amazing for me, that my words could touch you like that.**

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 **Thanks also to my beta from the other fan fiction site, OhAine, she's the best.**

 **I'll see you at the bottom!**

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Molly stood in front of the large – very nearly industrial - refrigerator enjoying the cool air on her heated flesh. Clad in only a vest and thin cotton pyjama shorts dotted with bunches of cherries and bananas, she was feeling the heat from both their recent vigorous activities and the fact that the temperature was set to a balmy 25 degrees.

When Molly had mentioned to Sherlock earlier that another of her biggest kinks was warmer weather, he'd paused in the middle of the pilgrimage his tongue was making from the junction where the inside of her ankle met the soft nylon rope he'd tied her to the bed post with, all the way up the inside of her thighs.. His eyes gleamed, lip quirking in one corner mischievously. He'd leaped up, and darted out of the room and straight to the air conditioning controls.

Molly giggled softly, with no brain work to occupy his mind with, Molly's orgasms and general sexual satisfaction had become an obsession for him, not that she was complaining, she was certainly benefitting from his attentions, she smiled thinking about the heights he'd so far taken her to.

He'd returned from the controls looking very proud of himself and ready to continue what he had started, diving straight back into his previous ministrations, when he reached the apex of her thighs he'd blown cool air over her, refusing to touch when her hips had bucked toward his hands.

He'd then moved away, beginning the journey again from her hands, travelling up from the sensitive skin of her inner wrists where he had secured the rope that held her in place, making his way in a tauntingly slow fashion, placing open mouthed kisses grazing her skin all the way up each arm until he reached her breasts.

Pulling her nipple between his lips, barely creating suction, massaging with a feather light touch, he'd given both arms and breasts this same treatment until Molly was writhing and cursing, begging him to just _please,_ touch.

He'd settled in between her legs then, Molly had sighed in relief assuming that he would now give in and _finally_ put his thick, heavy erection to use. But still he'd made her wait, he'd ran his hands open palmed down over her shoulders, making sweeping lines and whorls over her skin. Circling and teasing but never giving her pressure where she craved it.

Molly, desperate for release. Pleaded, "Please just _touch_ me Sherlock."

Sherlock had sat back, his body on display for her, just watching through hooded eyes, using where her eyes went to guide his movements. Without taking his eyes off her he wrapped his right hand around his cock, Molly's breath hitched, he gave her a wicked smile and began stroking himself sensuously, firm and slow movements. When a bead of pre-come appeared on the glans Molly whimpered, her pink tongue was pointed and agile when it darted out to lick her own lips.

"Do you like my cock Molly?" Sherlock asked casually, as if asking her favourite flavour of ice cream.

Molly's eyes closed, briefly, overwhelmed with her near painfully intense for release, her breath was galloping along in equal measure with her pulse, her sex throbbed in time, a growing circle of damp heat spreading on the bed, her voice was barely audible when she responded, "Sherlock, please, I-."

Sherlock increased his speed and asked again, his voice rough, "Molly. Do. You. Like. My. Cock?" His teeth were clenched, the effort it was taking not to just position himself over her and push into her aching wet heat was almost inhuman.

Molly wondered frantically if she was about to orgasm without even being touched, she closed her eyes again against the image of his gorgeous fit, lithe body between her legs. He was holding his long, thick, throbbing cock, his eyes blackened with lust, staring into her and cataloguing her arousal and reactions, his sensuous Cupid's bow lips curled, though not in his usual disdain, but in arousal, his curls _begging_ to be touched by hands that were trussed and at his mercy.

Sherlock nodded, she was exactly where he had wanted to take her, he had only three weeks to leave his mark on his wife's… _soul_? He didn't believe in an afterlife but somehow 'soul' fit, he wanted to claim her soul so he could take it with him when he left.

He fell forward onto his knees, placing his left hand on the bed next to Molly's shoulder, grazing her ribs as he did so with his elbow, Molly shivered and moaned at the contact, he needed to be very careful that he didn't make her orgasm before he was inside of her.

"Molly," his tone a warning, her eyes fluttered open, wanting to please, his eyes fixed on hers, he enunciated each word clearly, no room for confusion, "Do _not_ come until I give you permission."

Molly's eyes widened, she nodded, concentrating on holding back the rising tide building in her lower stomach, the exquisite pain of holding it back nothing she'd ever experienced before, she scrabbled around in her mind to think of something sufficiently off putting, _Janine, The Woman._ Both women flashed before her eyes, beautiful, confident, neither one would have considered her a threat had they even stopped to consider her at all, yet both would give anything to be this position.

Sherlock, positioned his prick, pausing to admire the juxtaposition of his cock against her candy pink pussy, he pressed harder, nudging it into her slick folds, pretty petals, her public hair curled and glistened above like leaves on a tree. Sherlock's brain randomly filed away a task to see if this was the reason for calling it a love garden, he'd needed to keep his own orgasm at bay. Molly bound, spread eagle on the bed writhing and cursing and begging for his beautiful cock, literally dripping with desire for him was hard to ignore.

His entrance was slow, his silken staff parted her folds like a hot knife through butter, he had no control over the guttural moan that wended it's way out of his lips as he sank into her honey pot, she was wet and warm and _tight_. Her lips parting in an endless wail, her hips, bucking wildly. Sherlock released the base of his prick and pressed down on her lower stomach.

Gently, he covered her body with his own, her breasts flattening against his naked torso as he did so. Sherlock could feel his balls snug against her arse as he plunged in as deep as possible, impaling her on his iron hard cock. His voice low and harsh, "Come for me _now_ , Molly," before attacking her mouth and sucking her tongue into his own mouth.

Molly's orgasm was so intense that her cunt became a vice grip, it was verging on impossible to pull back and ram back in, but he did, repeatedly, Molly's orgasm seemed to be without end, rippling and pulsing around him while she wailed, as the intensity slowed he could make out her words as he pounded ruthlessly toward his own orgasm. "Sherlock, oh Sherlock, oh my god, this is so fucking _good_ , oh my god." Tears were streaming down her face.

Sherlock's own orgasm hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks, as he pulsed deep inside of her he shouted, "Molly, I love you, I love you, Molly, I love you." He collapsed on top of her panting, well aware that he needed to untie her but just unable to move.

Molly panted out, "I know Sherlock, I know," she would have loved to hold him, stroke his back in circles, give comfort, but her hands were tied, she snorted a little laugh and the spell was broken.

Sherlock raised his head to look at her, not hurt, not yet, but the potential loomed large, they'd just shared something huge and life altering, something he couldn't share with anyone else and she was _laughing_. For the very reason that he could share this with her, he waited to see what she was giggling about, trusting her.

Molly gasped out, "I want to hold you, but my hands are tied!" She giggled in her let-it-all-out Molly way and he smiled in return.

"I've never imagined love would feel like this Molly, not even with you, you hold my heart in your hands."

Molly snorted again, wiggling her hands she retorted, "Oh Sherlock, as you ever have mine, but right now I can't hold anything."

"Right, bad choice of words," he leaned over her leg so he could untie first her right hand and then her left, rubbing them carefully to get the circulation moving and checking the skin for abrasions or tears as he did so.

Having checked her arms he turned to move down to her ankles to administer the same treatment, Molly stopped him, using her newly freed arms she pulled him down to her for a cuddle.

He crumpled in to her gracefully, letting his body fall, he landed between her legs, his now spent prick nestled against her damp centre. There was no shame, no discord between them, they were sticky, sweaty and thoroughly debauched, and he didn't mind. This was something he would only ever share with Molly, he'd never allowed his former sexual partners to see him in a weakened, vulnerable position, with Molly it was second nature to just let himself show through.

His darkness, his selfish cruelty, his hidden overly emotional needy self, she just accepted it all, she always had, she was his safety net, he knew his biggest short coming was that he was not hers. Molly murmured words of love to him while he basked in the glow of her generosity.

After a moment he peeled himself away, he needed to release her from her bonds. Once he had rubbed her ankles back to life and checked them obsessively he slid his hands up her legs, enjoying the shiver his touch inspired.

He studied her trying to learn her from the inside out, eventually time begun again, he dipped his head and suckled her clit lovingly.

Molly's hands sunk into his hair, her voice low, "Hmm, Sherlock," her hips jerked without rhythm, she flung a hand up, over her eyes, "Oh, _yes_ , that's nice, oh, you make me feel so _good_."

Sherlock pulled his mouth away, drawing lazy circles with his thumb, he looked up at her, "Molly?"

"Hmm?" Her voice was sweet, so feminine, his cock bobbed at the sound, she was Venus on the half shell.

"Look at _me_ , look at me when you come Molly," the intensity in his voice commanding Molly's complete attention.

Molly's arm fell away and she looked at him, her chest rising and falling heavily, her mouth went dry, his beauty devastating, heightening both her arousal and her heart beat.

Sherlock made sure she was still looking and started detailing what he wanted to do to her. "I want to taste you coming, you taste like desire Molly, your scent is wild berries and musk," Molly's breath shuddered, her hips rocking and rocking, faster and faster. "After I make you come I'm going to sink my cock into you, into your. Hot. Wet. Cunt."

Sherlock plunged two fingers in and pistoned them in and out, at the same time he flicked the thumb on his other hand relentlessly back and forth across her swollen nub even as he sucked on it. He chased Molly upward as her hips flowed up in ecstasy, her mouth open wide in a silent wail. When her orgasm broke over her, it shattered her completely, rendering her completely incapable of maintaining eye contact.

Sherlock watched her greedily, cataloguing every movement, every sound, every breath. His prick leaking and throbbing at the sight of her absolutely magnificent undoing. As her hips canted back down Sherlock allowed his fingers to gently slide out and gently released his suction grip on her pearl, raising himself up above her he waited for her to give him a nod.

He got more than a nod, "Oh god, _Sherlock_ , you're going to kill me," Molly's eyes were shining, she looked utterly transported, "H-ahh, I need to feel you _now_ ," her gaze flowed down to take in his swollen, engorged cock. Molly cursed.

Sherlock took himself in hand and lined up with her willing, aching cunt and drove his prick in all the way to the hilt, Molly's scream was feral, Sherlock roared sounding animalistic. Molly's legs twined around his back, crossed at her ankles and used as leverage to buck up and pull him in deeper.

Sherlock was driving into her with such force that Molly was moving up the bed with each stroke, the bed creaked and crashed against the wall that had either of them been capable of having a coherent thought in that moment it would have been that the bed must surely crack.

Molly was pulsing and fluttering around Sherlock when his hips shuddered, he grasped her hips so he could go deeper, his buttocks taut, his teeth bared as he spilled his seed deep inside her.

Collapsing on Molly his first thought was for her, "Did I hurt you Molly?" He panted out, "Are you okay?"

Molly's face was bright with a satisfied grin, she closed her eyes, blew out a deep breath and laughed, "Yeah, I'm good, Sherlock, I'm great, that was, wow, yeah, wow."

* * *

Molly pulled butter and the mayonnaise out of the fridge pausing to swing her hips and belt out "Vale-ri-i-i-e," dramatically into the mayonnaise bottle, in tune with Amy Winehouse whom she could hear through her iPod Earbuds, hearing a muffled snort from behind her she pulled them from her ears and began, "Why Mr. Holmes if we don't stop for food and water we'll surely exsanguinate." Molly threw a sultry look over her shoulder and the words died in her mouth.

Her eyes widening when rather than her well-fucked husband standing behind her enjoying the view, she came face to face with none other than Mycroft Holmes, umbrella and all. "Has it been raining?" Was her ridiculous question.

He gave her a wan smile, "No, Mrs Holmes, it has not been raining." Clearing his throat he stepped forward, "I wonder if I may have a word?" He gestured to the table and pulled out a seat for Molly sit down. Molly sat and waited.

"My behaviour was unforgivable, I left a decision in Sherlock's hands that was not his to make, certainly given that I was the one to bring you here, I should have disclosed the situation," he paused, "I am sorry," he raised his eyes to hers expecting to see hate, instead he saw understanding and forgiveness, even more surprising, her hands reaching across the table to take his in her own.

"Mycroft, I _understand_ , I know why you didn't tell me," Mycroft frowned in obvious confusion. "You didn't tell me because you were afraid I would leave and you knew your brother needed, _distraction_." Molly smiled.

"I'm both," Molly replied simply.

What wouldn't Sherlock have given to see the Mycroft flummoxed by Molly's simple, precise summing up of her purpose here, he stared at her in wonder, if previously he'd deemed her worthy of his brother's attentions he was now utterly entranced himself.

Molly grinned at him, par for the course, she would forever be underestimated, "Hungry?"

Mycroft started, " _Yes,"_ he sounded almost shocked by his own admission.

Molly opened a bag of bread rolls and instructed Mycroft to begin preparing them. Mycroft's sneer could have stopped the sun moving across the sky, Molly remained unfazed. Molly's look of disappointment evidently worked wonders on both Holmes brothers, Mycroft, thoroughly chastened, set to work.

Molly started on the salad and that's how Sherlock found them when he wandered out moments later. He stopped in the door way, watching his wife and brother making sandwiches together, before this moment he would have sworn it would be an impossible task to get Mycroft Holmes to slice and butter buns, but of course if anyone could, it would be Molly.

After watching unobserved for a moment, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he peeled away from the door and made his way to the table where he pulled a seat out for himself and joined his wife and brother, Molly immediately assigning him fruit salad duty.

They prepared and ate their meal in harmony, the brothers uncharacteristically cordial, both too afraid of losing Molly's good opinion not to be. Earning Molly's indulgent smile had them each grinning like children allowed dessert instead of dinner.

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 **If you're enjoying this, please let me know, I'm not happy with this chapter now that I'm ready to post, so any encouragement would be gratefully received, reviews, follows, favourites, or find me on Tumblr? There's a link on my profile page or I am sweet-sweet-escape**

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	6. Alone is what she has

**_Sorry for the delay, I can't write until I am feeling it, I'm at the mercy of my muse, (I feel like a wanker saying that but nonetheless it's the truth) this is a good chapter, worth the wait I promise!_**

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Mournful, notes curled in under the door, dancing in slow circles with dust motes before twining themselves around Molly's mind, casting her into a melancholy mood. Transported, she journeyed through her internal landscape to a place of heartbreak and loss.

The tempo increased and she wondered if Sherlock was summoning his end, welcoming it.

Silent tears fell unchecked.

 _Her beautiful, crazy, genius; she was going to lose him when they'd finally -_ _She would do_ ** _anything_** _to keep him in the world, she'd give him up if it meant he could stay; roaming the streets of London, terrorising the yard, messing up the morgue._

 _Her heart was in tattered pieces, how would the world stand losing him? There was no one like Sherlock Holmes, he wasn't one in a million, he was truly unique._

Shattering the peace, his phone buzzed to life and insistently crabbed around on the side table, like a trapped blow-fly.

Pulling herself from her torpor, she reluctantly rolled over to look.

 _Lestrade_.

Would he be interested in taking a look at a case? It's all cleared through the appropriate channels and we're stuck.

Turned out, Sherlock would.

~o0oo0oo0o~

Uncomfortable, Lestrade stood in the kitchen, trying for nonchalance and only succeeding in an awkward and ill-at-ease stance.

With the folder in his hand, Sherlock was tut-tutting at the ineptitude and sloppy work show-cased within.

The file was dumped on the table with a sigh and an air of disgust, though he was unable to completely hide the hint of a smile that twitched at the corner of his mouth, "Honestly Geoff, was this _work_ done at Scotland Yard or a school yard?"

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Lestrade had cheerfully joined in with the pretended animosity, happy for a touch of normalcy and was just opening his mouth to fire back a correction on his name, when a crash startled the two men.

In concert, they turned toward the threat.

There stood Molly, arms outstretched as though she was waiting for the cup to leap back up to her waiting hands.

Moving slowly, carefully, as though afraid he would spook her, Sherlock spoke softly, "Molly, love?"

Lestrade's eyes boggled at the word love rolling so casually and gently off of Sherlock's tongue. _He had heard that calming voice before but only when he'd been shamming_.

Of course he knew that they had been married but he'd assumed it was a convenience, a way to allow the ever-selfless Molly to be company - and a possible distraction - for Sherlock.

As he watched, unaware that he was holding his breath, it struck him that he was intruding on a very private scene.

Sherlock knelt down and took her shaking hands in his - far more gently than Greg would have ever thought him _genuinely_ capable of - and crooned her name softly.

Realisation struck and his mouth dropped open - _Sherlock Holmes was in love._

 _Finally,_ ** _finally_** _but far too late, he'd managed to find the path that would help him navigate a way to reconcile being a great man with being a truly good man._

Sherlock scooped Molly up and was kissing her all over her face and neck, while she folded into him, curling fists into his locks.

A moan floated away from the pair and he cleared his throat, aware that his face was cherry red.

"So I'll- ah, I'll just leave this here, shall I?" He asked with false cheer, a poor attempt to hide his embarrassment.

Feeling distinctly like John, he addressed the air around him as he murmured, "I'll be in touch," nodding like an idiot.

Sherlock, ignoring him as usual, had continued down the hallway, the distinct sounds of full on about-to-turn-into-sex-snogging trailing out carelessly behind him, between Molly's increasingly charged sounds of appreciation for whatever Sherlock was doing to her.

Shaking his head, Lestrade thought, _Cheeky bugger! Never bothered to have sex but of course he's bloody good at it_.

Guilt followed swiftly on the heels of that thought; _He's going to his death, they've got all of five minutes and he's admitted his love, damned if I'll begrudge them a second of it._

A particularly lustful and drawn out, "Oh, _Sherlock_ , ohhhh," had Lestrade running for the door.

~o0oo0oo0o~

Molly propped herself up on her elbows, earning her a wink and a lascivious grin from her husband from his position between her legs.

"You like watching me down here, don't you Molly?" His knowing grin assuring her that he approved of her feelings in this matter.

Biting her lip, eyes impossibly dilating further, she nodded, "Yes, always, always."

Lunging, he sucked her clitoris again, the slurping sounds purposefully obscene.

Molly sank her hands into his hair and tugged, just a little, the way he liked.

Curling his fingers inside her, he hit the spot that guaranteed she'd scream his name in that breathy, barely controlled way when she stiffened and fluttered.

Her orgasm was upon her suddenly, his fingers bordered on magical.

The skills he used to pull such beautiful music from his violin, turned out be extremely transferable and the sounds he drew from Molly when she was his instrument were no less pleasing.

Coming down from her body quaking orgasm, she lay shaking and panting. With the first breath she could conceivably create speech, she begged him, "Take me now Sherlock, I'm yours, use me, defile me, brand me, _own_ me."

Guttural groans and curses escaped his lips as he scrambled to get above her. Positioning his cock at her slick entrance, he pushed in one motion.

A sliver of pain at his abrupt entrance made it perfect, "Oh yeah, fuck me, fuck me hard," she spat from between gritted teeth, "Hurt me, I want to never not feel you sliding in and out of me. _Please_."

Sweat dripped from Sherlock's face as he hammered into her.

Grabbing her wrists, he held them above her head, "You're mine, Molly, this is my cunt, it will be always mine, you belong to me." Each word was punctuated with a thrust of his hips.

Molly wailed and writhed, the possessive filthy talk and his hard body slamming against hers endlessly, sending her to all new heights of bliss. "I've always belonged to you Sherlock, I always will."

Losing themselves in the motion of their love, time became meaningless, it slowed down and stretched into forever. Their eyes burrowed into each other, seeking to hide.

Rushing toward her orgasm, her eyes on her husband, she begged him, "Kiss me, my love, I want to feel you everywhere when you come."

"I love you Molly Holmes," he growled, before plunging his tongue into her mouth.

Their kiss deepened as they tried to get closer, swallowing each other's screams as they lost themselves in carnal bliss. Feeling as close as it is possible to get to another human being in this lonely world.

Collapsing on top of Molly, he gasped out in anguish, "I'm so sorry Molly. I'm so very sorry. I should have loved you sooner. I should have never loved you at all - left you in peace."

Pulling her body up, she rolled him over and collapsed on his chest, not bothered by her hair sticking to the sweat that shone on his chest.

"You listen to me Sherlock _bloody_ Holmes, not loving was never an option, for either of us. Don't wish away my love."

Pain cracked his voice, "I only mean to wish away your pain, my darling Molly."

"They're one and the same Sherlock, as it's always been with you, I wouldn't change a moment of it. I meant what I said, we loved each other in _our own way_. You stayed away to protect me and because you loved me before you understood the emotion. I love _you_ , not some white-washed version of yourself where all the sharp edges are filed down."

She smiled tenderly and though he couldn't see her, he could feel it on his chest and hear it in her voice when she continued.

"I feel _lucky_ , there's no one like you and you're mine, you gave your heart to _me_ , plain old Molly Hooper."

Blowing out a breath she flopped back down.

"Now it's your turn to listen, _plain_ _old_ Molly Hooper? _Magnificent_ Molly Hooper who risked all to save my life _and_ the lives of Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and John. Shall I go on and list all the things that you've done Molly mine?"

"I don't see myself like that," her voice reflecting just how small she felt.

Nodding, he spoke again, "You think I married you out of a sense of misguided duty, or pity?"

"You won't keep me if you get to stay," rejection tasted of salty tears and bitter ashes.

" _Molly_ ," sadness infused her name.

 _Worry loomed large in his mind, she kept referring to him staying. She_ ** _must_** _accept that no cavalry would be coming, he had no idea how to help her but he must._

"I know," she whispered back, "I _know_."

She curled into a ball beside him, the exhaustion of wild sex and emotions wearing her out. Before ten minutes had lapsed her breathing had evened out and she was heavy against him.

Stroking her forehead, he pushed her hair away from her tiny little face, he couldn't help smiling, she looked open and vulnerable, like a child. After dragging a soft mohair blanket over her to keep her warm as she slept, he sat back, needing to think.

Easing himself out of bed, he went to fetch his violin, he didn't bother with pants, if they were looking, let them, maybe it would break up the monotony of the day. Focus was required, he felt certain that he could come up with a solution that was perfectly in balance between his need for Molly to remember him and still be okay when he was gone.

He lost himself in the music and in his mind palace for hours.

Molly slept under his watchful gaze, soothed by a cascade of gentle lullabies.

After a time, his mind offered him a scene, a fairly detailed one. Molly, holding a baby, her own, with whom she was clearly in love.

The beauty inherit in such an image gave him pause to at least admire it for a time, he soon recognised that the child his mind had conjured was his own.

Aggrieved at the cruelty of the trick his own mind was willing to play, he lifted his bow once again to swipe the image clean, as he did so, the last cog slipped into place and he understood what his brain had been driving at, his mouth a perfect circle, his arms forgotten at his sides.

 _A baby._

 _Their baby._

~o0oo0oo0o~

Molly woke feeling surprisingly refreshed, she stretched languorously, eyes adjusting easily to the moonlit room.

Sherlock was sitting on the bed, his eyes roaming her prone form. A smile twitched around his lips when he saw her eyes flutter open briefly. He looked as though he'd been waiting for her to wake up for a while and was excited.

She favoured him with a broad grin and held her arms out to him, "Husband? My body misses yours."

His lips quirked up, "I was hoping that might be the case," cocking his head, he observed her, "I had an idea actually."

Molly felt a swooping sensation in her stomach and a pulse of heat in between her thighs.

Her voice trembled when she asked, "And what was that?"

A lazy, slow smile spread as he climbed over to her and pulled the extraordinarily unnecessary sheet off of her. "Oh I think it might be best to reveal my idea slowly Molly."

Molly's eyes widened at the predatory gleam in his and the way he stretched her name into something obscene.

Swallowing hard she looked up at him, "Sherlock, I-"

Pressing a finger to her lips, he dipped his head and bit her neck.

Her back arched as a moan came from her mouth independently of her will and her hands sunk into his hair.

Nails raked through his hair, his scalp tingled pleasantly.

Lowering his voice, he told her, "I want to taste you Molly."

"Oh! But we -I didn't. Um," flushing, she cleared her throat, embarrassment making her awkward.

Sherlock could feel the heat in her cheeks. _She was so_ ** _innocent_** _, it was remarkably sexy, especially so in light of the fact that she'd thought him untouched before their wedding night; it was rather fun shocking her so easily._

He slung her legs over his shoulders and _feasted_ on her. Of course she tasted different; ordinarily she was a tart, musk, mouth-watering delicacy. His own taste lent a salty, slightly acrid taste, not as appealing as her own but mixed together they became a symphony of flavours that he took as a testament to the powerful chemistry between them.

Molly was thrashing around, she was near. Redoubling his efforts he flicked his thumb back and forth across her clit and _sucked_.

She had no idea what he was doing down there, she felt almost delirious with the glut of sensory information.

With Tom - and every other man she'd ever slept with - she'd had to chase her orgasm, concentrate and cultivate them. With Sherlock, her orgasms hit her like a truck; far from having to be chased, they seemed to hurl themselves at her.

"Oh Sherlock, Sherlock, _Sher-lock_ , oh God, oh Fuuuck."

Molly was almost bent in half backwards, her body shaking and rattling like a space-ship re-entering the atmosphere.

He desperately wanted to look at her but he was aware that stopping mid-way to admire the view would affect the intensity and he wanted Molly debauched, _wrecked_.

As she crested down from her high she tried to close her legs to him, digging her heels into the bed and scrabbling for purchase in order to move away.

"Molly, can I? I need you."

The gift of speech having deserted her, all she could manage in response to his plea was a whimper. Consent however, was easily conveyed, she simply nodded and opened her arms.

Relief was a balm sweeping through him, his cock was as a steel rod, he was inexplicably aroused at the idea of impregnating Molly, though it made no logical sense; for a myriad of reasons, the first being that she was on the pill, there was also the fact that they had been having regular sex without condoms for the length of the marriage - six days.

 _Six days? Surely he'd spent lifetimes with Molly - Regardless of the logistics, his lizard brain found the idea of planting his seed in the womb of the woman he loved to be the most powerful aphrodisiac he'd ever experienced._

Sheathing his prick inside her tight, wet, heat, sounds of pleasure spilled from his mouth.

 _Each and every time he entered her, she wanted to shriek with pleasure, it was him,_ ** _Sherlock_** _, becoming a part of her, he was inside her body, he couldn't belong to her any more than he did in those moments when they joined as one with their flesh and the pleasure and joy she felt confirmed that he was her perfect match._

 ** _This_** _was the meaning of life, this is what she was here for, to physically become one with the man that made her soul sing in wild delight. Every single thing about him was perfect, his brain, oh, his clever, wonderful, beautiful brain; his corporeal beauty, his grace, his heart._

Moving like a pendulum above her, the intensity of emotion increased with each stroke, as she hurtled toward fruition again. Bliss, sweet bliss.

Trickling into her consciousness slowly, she became aware that Sherlock was babbling with increasing fervour and volume. Concentrating desperately - difficult in this state of arousal - she pieced together some of it.

"I want to fill you up Molly, I want to come deep inside you and give you a baby, _my_ baby. You want to have my baby, don't you Molly?"

Heart thudding, her mind spun in circles, _A baby? What?_

"Sherlock, I - what?"

Confusion was warring with her limbic system - and losing. Her traitorous body seemed to find the idea of Sherlock wanting to make a baby incredibly sexy.

Echoes from the sane aspect of her mind crowded her thoughts, _You're on the pill, you can't get pregnant. He's going to death, best time to plan a child together, do you think? He doesn't want to keep you should he find a reprieve but you want his baby?_

The thoughts were jangling against each other in her mind, like keys jostling on a chain, a cacophony of voices, dividing and splitting her mind.

As another orgasm tore through her body, peace descended, the voices broke apart and faded back into oblivion.

Calm suffused her entire being, her muscles melted and her mind was an oasis of sweet, simple, joy.

With a crash, her mind exploded into activity, _A baby? A Goddamn baby?_

Looking up into his face, she saw a curious thing, he looked completely and utterly abandoned. His strokes had devolved into brute force now, he was chasing his own orgasm. He was trying to fuck into her far enough to plant his seed in her womb.

Her fingers reached up and she brushed the tips of her fingers over the hanging cliffs of his cheekbones.

Leaning into her touch, his features gentled and his movements slowed. A smile, like none she'd ever seen, dazzling in its intensity of emotion, "I love you Molly."

Plunging in, deep, deeper, deepest, he pulsed into Molly, locking his mouth onto hers as he rocked through his release. Catching each of his groans in her mouth, her legs wrapped around him, crossed at the ankles, she tried to drag him all the way inside her.

Breaking off the kiss, she looked up at him, "I'd do anything for you but why? Why this? A baby? When you won't be _here?"_

* * *

 ** _I know! I'll try to be quicker, the next one will be emotional, so I have to get it right.._**

 ** _Come find me on Tumblr? I'm sweet-sweet-escape_**


End file.
